


Song of the Dreamers

by Lynn_Nexus



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bother's Grim AU, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Magic, Mind Manipulation, Mournful, True Love, Unrequited Love, shakespeare au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_Nexus/pseuds/Lynn_Nexus
Summary: A story based on my mental mixing of images from strange magic, Midsummer's nights dream, old brother's grim art, and gothic japanese drawings.A goblin and a fairy meet in a clearing.  Both have a song to sing, but neither want to sing it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh lord.
> 
> Ok, so You know how in old movies about plays about fairies.... they'd have people all dressed up like a fairy and then when the fairy would fly they'd POP! Be a ball of light that floated around like tink? And have you ever seen those really pretty, super detailed drawings/watercolors of fairies or of the second Vampire Hunter D?
> 
> Yea... That sorta got mixed in my head and I wanted to make more a human, human sized version of Bog... Which of course lead to a mental image of him and Marianne at their wedding in that Vamp D baroque/final fantasy art book style and... 
> 
> Whoops I rewrote strange magic... TT_TT

The thick woman with dark, supple, scaled skin and a round middle looked cautiously out into the night. Her bug eyed, small companion shifted nervously behind her, his crooked teeth worrying his long lips, a slick webbed hand pressing against her back. Both were clothed in rough cloth and fur, though his were distinctly soggy as he peered around from behind her. “What was it?!” He asked, nerves coloring his voice. The female growled, stringy, unnaturally yellow hair with spines of ocher and olive holding the limp mane mostly back off her face. She moved the hair out of her beady eyes with marked frustration.

“I don’t see anything! Certainly not a _fairy_...” The male flustered, his uneven, bloodshot eyes blinking wildly as he sputtered, his long arms drawing to his chest as he looked up at her. “Stuff! I _saw_ a fairy!” He hissed, hurt clear in his voice. The deep rumble of the female’s voice snapped back, just as quiet but just as fierce. “Maybe you saw a beetle in the light or a moth! But I see no reason to believe a _fairy_ crossed the border!” 

“Would it be so bad if I were right?” He whined his question at her, almost child like in his curiosity. “Yes! It would be very bad! A _fairy_ crossing the border means war. Do _you_ want to war against the fairies Thang?!” His shoulders drew up to his large fin like ears as they drooped noticeably. “No...” Stuff gave a decisive nod, stepping out from behind the tree they were hiding behind. “Good. Then lets get back to the king and report the _nothing_ we found...” The little male scuffed his foot on a root before heaving a great sigh.

Suddenly they both seemed to fall to the earth, their forms shrank so fast, until they were the size of toads. The far greener, far smaller, bare little goblins ran through the brush, able to move silently and quickly through the thick undergrowth.

Shivering, in a burrow none too far away, another little goblin was hiding, a far furrier creature with long white ears and deep black eyes. It scuttled back to the fairy. The fairy was of a moderate size as far as the little goblin knew, larger than it but not too large to fit in it’s burrow. The fairy was apparently a she, it’s purple wings ripped in a few places but it was nothing a bit of rest and some well placed mending wouldn’t fix. Her skin was warm and soft, like a bunnies fur, but a orangeish peach that only fairies ever seemed to sport. The tips of it’s legs and hands were black like the tips of it’s wings and it’s hair was a dark purple shock of fluff on it’s head, it’s body tinted purple and green in some places, though the little goblin didn’t know if that was from the injuries she had sustained or if the color was natural.

The little goblin curled next to the fairy, she had been hurt, crying, and most upsettingly, love sick. It was a well known fact that a love sick fairy was a gravely ill fairy. Nothing could kill a fairy as quickly as love lost. Fairies were known for their flighty nature but while they would have flings and flights of fancy, there were tales that even goblins knew of fairies scorned by their true love, how love sickness was a wasting sickness in them. Goblins were of a sturdier stock, though. There were no tales of a goblin wasting away from love sickness. Even the king, who was known to have been love scorned, simply became angrier, even with his well known fairy blood.

No, he would protect and keep the fairy warm, try to nurse her back to health. No one should die from lack of love… Not while this Imp was around to try and help.

~~

Marianne woke in the burrow she’d found herself near. When she’d seen a goblin follow her into the burrow, she thought she was certainly dead. It would have been a kinder death, ripped to shreds by a ferocious goblin. Far kinder than dieing of a broken heart… But the fluffy little goblin proved to be nothing of the sort. Ferocious was no longer a word that she would ever think in conjunction with the little goblin. He was… Well he was adorable and sweet. His voice was quiet, barely more than a squeak. Perhaps it was difficult to speak but he certainly was animated.

He brought her water and berries, feeding her and insisting she drink. He tended her wings which had seen better days and he kept her warm in the cold nights. Still, even with his efforts she could feel herself wasting, feel her broken heart tearing down every bit of aid the little Imp goblin gave her. She wished dearly that she would not disappoint the little goblin but…

She waited until he was asleep and it was obvious she wasn’t going to get better that she slipped away to try and find a different place to live out the tiny bit of time she had remaining. She feared for her people, her family. She knew her father was dead, her mother’s passing would take him soon, he loved her mother too strongly to fight his heartbreak. Her sister, oh she hoped that she really did follow her new swain like she said she would. If her sister had left the palace her long time friend Sunny and whoever her secret crush was would protect the princess. But no one could protect the young queen from her fate… Not when her love was the one who had caused her to flee, broken her heart so resoundingly. 

And for what? The crown he already had.

The love sick fairy flew until her wings refused then… Then she stood tall, walking through the dark trees slowly. Her wedding dress, a gown of spider silk gossamer, dotted with petals and lace weed hung limply around her, more tattered than her wings and as stained as her blackened, dyeing heart. A mournful keen floated out of her as she looked up through the canopy at the moon, this clearing would be her death bed most likely, she didn’t know if she had another day in her.

Dark indigo blooms littered the floor of the little clearing and the fae sat herself in the middle, blooms opening in the moonlight around her as her broken heart slowed.

Suddenly her ears perked to a sound, the rustle of leaves in the still air and her eyes caught another pair gleaming in the dark. It was a goblin, she was sure, but what she could see of him was unlike any goblin she’d ever seen. He wore armor, sharp and jagged, a crown of leaf like scales wrapped around his jet hair. His features long and pointed looked out at her in the darkness of the trees, only his eyes catching the moon beams to distinguish him from the trees he stood among.

“A _fairy_...” The Goblin hissed at her, the glint of amber and the thump of a staff sounded in the dark as he moved slightly forward, the rasp of chitin armor making her skin crawl and her wings flutter. She was silent in her fear, even knowing her end was near she still found him terrifying. As his presence loomed and threatened to block out the moon, his form over taking her, another keen ripped forth from her. He jolted to a stop. “What trickery is this?” He hissed, rage dripping from every point of him. Marianne shrunk slightly from him, curling in on herself, her hands held over her chest. “Don't worry goblin… Soon you will be alone in the moonlight.”

His face curled in disgust, fangs on full display. “Ya think Ah’ll let ya jus leave?” Even the flowers seemed to shrink from his acidic rage. Still, the young queen was unused to cowering, she found a long forgotten reserve of her resolve and held her head high. “I will never leave this place. I’m dying you fool.” His shoulders shifted and her blunt words seemed to slap against him. “I do not expect a goblin to know a fairies swan song, but… My broken heart will likely kill me before the sun rises...” 

Suddenly she thought he seemed indistinctly softer. He turned his head to the moon and watched it for some time before turning back to the fairy, having never gotten within ten paces. “Wuld ya like me ta leave? Suh y’kin sing ta tha moon?” It was a generous offer but she shivered at the thought, of being alone as she died. “You… It's not necessary…” His blue eyes traced her from his dark face, looking over her gosamer tatters and the shiver of her shoulders.

Long legs brought him slowly closer, an even pace across the dark flowers as slender, deft fingers reached up to beside his collar. He unlatched a cape she hadn’t realized he was wearing, she had been so swept up in his eyes and the sadness that suddenly shone in them. He swung the cape around her shoulders. It was heavy but soft, thin but warm, still heated from his body. He stepped back, never turning his back to her, as she shrugged deeper into the cloak.

Without a will of her own she began to sing. The mournful, wordless tune dipped and wove through the air like smoke and her companion took a shuddering breath. Perhaps he knew more than she gave him credit for, because his deep, gentle voice twined into the sound of her song. He sang with her as she felt her broken heart clawing in her chest. At the end of a long life, a fairies family and loved ones would sing with them. To have this goblin join her song warmed her more than his cloak had. She would not die alone tonight.

His voice was just as sad as hers, just as hurt. Two songs of lost love wove through the air and… She realized her heart lost it's bite, his song like a balm on all the raw and tattered pieces. The lilt of her song turned calmer, less pained and he stopped singing, looking to her with a cocked head. “Fairy… Yer song...” She was able to swallow down the notes and smile a weak, sad, smile at him. “Maybe I will live to see the sun. How unexpected...” She mused, mostly to herself then the smile fell and she looked over to him again. “Thank you, but… This is all probably for naught. I’ll likely pass tomorrow night...” He took in a chattering breath. An enemy turned kind like the other goblin she'd met. “Alone?” She turned her eyes away and bit her lip. “If you’re not here? Yes.”

He nodded slowly, she reached to her own shoulders to draw the cloak away and he waived his hand at her. “Ah’ll collect et when ya finish yer song.” He was slipping back into the tree line as he spoke, darkness shrouding him again, curling around him like the cloak had. The moon caught on something behind him a little flash of moonbeam reflecting off of something then he was gone. Perhaps it had been the staff he carried, a tactical move to blind her momentarily so she wouldn't be able to track him.

“Fairy?!” A soft but urgent voice called out, just barely holding on the wind. The little imp goblin tumbled through the brush, still small but not nearly so small as he usually was. Large white ears still perched on his head and his eyes were still large and black but he stood probably to her chest, long nose and face narrow and little claws on the tips of his fingers to remind one of his goblin form. He wore dingy linen clothes, a long slender tail still curled behind him. His ears folded back and nearly disappeared into his white hair. “Fairy you _cannot_ be here! It is the _King's_ forest... his guards could be anywhere!” She let the little male help her to her feet, pulling the cloak that was too long for her tightly around her.

“Where did you get that?” He questioned in shock and worry. “I found it in the forest...” She lied because of how panicked he looked and because she did not relish telling him that she'd met another goblin. The less either of them knew about the other the better. They both transformed to move quickly, hidden among the plants as they went back to his burrow to hide her there. They saw no other soul as they flit and scampered back to the hollow tree.

The moon saw a fairy and goblin in the field of flowers again the next night. He watched her from the darkness, a new cloak that was slightly darker than the last around his shoulders. She stayed in the light and when her voice forced it's self out of her throat he seemed compelled to sing with her. Fairies of great compassion would keen with the dieing if they had no family to join their song, it was strange to think that perhaps a goblin might be so compelled. When her song softened again she turned to him where he hid in the shadows. “Why do you sing with me?” He rolled his great, wide shoulders, clawed fingers tapping against the metal of his staff.

His song joined hers every night until one night her song did not come and she realized her heartbreak had eased to a bearable state. She was simply coming to the clearing they met in to see him and she blushed at the thought. “Are ye, well fairy?” She smirked up through her lashes as her long ears twitched with his pleasantly rough voice. “I believe I am. What magic have you used on me to save me from my own heart?” His brilliantly blue eyes flashed in his pale face at her question. “Ah dinnea use any _magic_ fairy...” she frowned but smiled at him, moving closer to him, his cloak around her still and he backed up as though she were dangerous.

She pulled the cloak off her shoulders and held it out to him, offering the shadow back to the darkness as her dress caught the light. He didn't reach forward as she held the cloak out to him. “You said you would collect it when my song finished...” He was still hesitant, a wicked looking hand reaching slowly out towards the cloak before pulling back slightly as he touched the fabric. “Y'kin keep it a tick longer...” She cocked her head at him and he cleared his throat quietly. “Use et ta hide yerself...” He motioned to her light brightened form as thought to demonstrate how badly she stood out. He took the edges of the cloak, moved to her flank, picking the thing up, he draped it over her violet wings and pale dress.

“I am always shocked at your kindness Goblin.” She smiled up at his severe face, reveling in the shock she was able to put on his sharp features. He moved, brushing a lock of her hair out of her eyes but the action made her jolt. His expression darkened again but she was able to catch his hand before he could storm away. As anger flashed in his eyes like lightening in a storm cloud she let go of his wrist. “I... Just wanted to see...” He snapped back at her, spinning to face her fully, looming over her again. “Ta see tha beast? Ta inspect tha hideous monster?”

She snapped back just as sharply as him, her wings flaring under the cloak to little effect. “To see your hand. Is that so insulting?” He frowned down at her, unable to understand what she could want with his _hand_ , but unable to think of good reason to deny her he held his hand out to her. Her soft fingers turned his hand over, into her palm and she traced feather light touches along his palm then over the tips of his claws. “You're a warrior?” She questioned as she ran her fingertips over a thick callus on his palm from where his staff rubbed.

“Aye.” He said with an incredulous, wary tone. She smiled blindingly at him. “Can you teach me?” He should have denied her, should have told her no and slain her where she stood for such foolishness, yet he found himself agreeing to her request. The next night he brought her a sword and she tied her dress to let her legs move. She shed his cloak and stood in the clearing, the flowers having passed and a thicket of green grew resiliently under foot. They still trampled the green as she stumbled over her feet trying to find her center with the sword he'd brought her. It was little more than a stick but the weight meant she was flaring her weak wings constantly.

“Stop... Stop... Girl... Y'lean too far forward...” He instructed, finding a smile on his face at her clumsy attempts. She slumped and grumbled at the instruction, trying to be dignified while she was falling over because of a stick in her hands. “Here, move yer weight here...” He offered, stepping behind her and pulling her back by the shoulders. Wicked fingers slid down spidersilk to silken skin, wrapping his hands around her's to correct her. She glowed like the moon above and her skin was warm against his palm. He hadn't let himself get this close to anyone in some time. He felt her weight shift backwards so she wouldn't tip so easily, then her weight kept pushing backwards and he chuckled softly even as her soft valentine wings pricked themselves on his armor. He leaned forward gently to push her straighter. She smelled like irises and honeysuckle, his tongue thrashed in his mouth to touch her and see if she tasted like nectar.

He retreated before he did something unforgivable. He stood as a specter in the trees as she moved through the moves he had told her to do. The clearing shone like mid day with her joy radiating from her as she came to be comfortable with the stick. She took to fighting as a bird takes flight and he felt pride in the little fairy, felt it swell in his breast where his own heart had died long ago. It had long laid still and hated, a slow poison that would, some day, wither his body to match it. 

He swept in and his staff rang against her stick as she blocked him, shock on her face and he grinned wickedly down at her. “What are you doing?” She hissed her question at him and he snarled behind a sneer. “Testing to see if you learned. Defend yourself _Fairy_.” She did, she lost ground and lost ground but she did not let him strike her, panting and ferocious. A sharp want slammed inside him as she did all she could to fight back against him, her light voice heavy with exertion, delicate brow furrowed with concentration. He disarmed her, breaking the stick in her hands in half with a well placed swipe of his staff. Terror flashed across her face for a moment as he loomed ever forward. His mind screamed at him to end this farce, Fairies had done so much damage to him.

Suddenly her wings fluttered and she lunged forward, under his arms and up to face him. Fairies were not supposed to be able to fly in this form, their wings too delicate to loft them. Yet there she was, stump of a stick pressed to his throat with a grin of triumph on her face, his hands nowhere near her to protect himself from the sudden onslaught. “Yield Goblin.” She demanded between panted breaths, her wings stilled but lifted and casting the ground around them in fuchsia tinted moonlight. She gave a little insistent thrust of the sharp, broken end of the stick at his throat, leading him to grin down at her. “Never.” He jolted backwards, using his long body to his advantage as he grabbed her hand and twisted it out and away from him, forcing her to drop the stick. His fingers stayed wrapped around her wrist as she tried to yank herself away but he pulled too.

She tried to take him off balance by charging again and he let her knock him down onto his back, snatching her to his chest then rolling over on top of her, panting. He had a hand at her throat, threatening as her amber eyes flashed up at him. Her throat was so slim that he had the heel of his palm against her collar, his fingers wrapped past her spine and his thumb claw pointed insidiously up to the underside of her jaw. He could just snap her little neck as he felt her pulse pound against his monstrous palm.

She looked so beautifully delicate there, under his armored form. It was easy to forget how awful fairies could be with how thin, pale and exposed they were. Though a body would be hard pressed to forget how dangerous they could be with her flashing eyes trained on them. He had the hand he'd grabbed earlier pinned to the forest floor but her other hand gripped his pauldron, shaking. “You fight well... For having just learned.” He let his suspicion seep into his voice and she scoffed, he could feel the motion under his palm. “Hardly. I've been disarmed _twice_ and you have me pinned to the cold ground with your armor between my _thighs_...” Her voice held such venom that he had to check his body, sure he wasn't between her legs. Yet that was exactly where he was. “If you intend to kill me...” She started but he slid his thumb across her throat and that stopped her words in her throat.

He swept out of the clearing with his staff like a leaf on a gust of wind, taking his confusing anger and his inexplicable kindness with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to show them as both flawed but flawed in a fundamentally similar way. I hope this isn't too confusing :/

Marianne asked Imp if any rogues who trifled with the hearts of the heartbroken haunted the forest and he told her he didn't know of any but the forest was a big place. The next night she went to the clearing to sulk and mourn the friendship she thought they had been growing, expecting him to be gone but he was waiting for her, two sticks in hands this time. They fought every night, he would teach her then attack her under the moon again and again. He did not get so close, or become so bold with her again. Imp told her tales of the king, a vicious, part fairy, goblin who hated all things love. He hated fairies even more so because of how easily love came to them.

The story went that he was hideous and a goblin girl, delicate and strong with bright eyes and long lashes stole his heart but he was unable to steal hers. His looks such a horrible mix of goblin and not goblin that she was repulsed by him. He offered her everything, to stand at his side or rule in his shadow, _anything_ , if she would just let him touch her heart. Even if it would not be his alone he wished for nothing more than to just be given the chance to earn any drop of her affection. The insidious girl accepted... and gave her heart to another. When he found her in the arms of her other he flew into a broken hearted rage and killed them both on the spot. 

He rose from the blood changed, black hearted and hard. Where the king had once been kind he was now severe. The scars from her trying to defend herself still mark his face and should she ever meet him to never comment on his scars. Other Goblins would tell you the stories on their skin happily but the King of the Bog would fly into a rage that only his mother could weather and as such the goblins feared the day the aging female would pass to join his father.

The horrible story followed her to the clearing every time, knowing this was the king's forest and that he or his men may be lurking in the shadows. Yet her friend and Imp were the only faces she ever saw in the forest. She had grown stronger and she had shed her gossamer dress for some rougher clothes that Imp gave her. Much like her friends chitin she wore petals of Ironwood bark as armor, Imp had stained it with berries and moss and she had carved patterns into each petal before it was fit into her armor. Her armor was lighter, faster than his but if he struck her she would have to replace petals of the thing.

She wore softly knit cotton in mulberry with a gilt thread she had plucked from her old dress. Flowers and bobbles from the forest hung from her long ears where she had forced thin barbs through her lobes. Dark berries stained her eyes and lips so she looked as poisonous as an asp. He carried a bronze staff and she had asked if he could help her get a bronze sword, knowing the quicksilver blades of her people were out of reach. He told her he would see to it but brought her a blade made of polished bone dipped in ebony glass that darkened it and made it shine. It weighed like bone, light but sturdy and cut through the air like a lash.

She did not understand the goblin's magics, they were not like fairy magics. Fairies turned flowers to clothes that did not wilt and drew quicksilver into a solid form. Goblins hoarded magic in stone, bone and wood, making such things harder, or stronger. Fairy magics made the beautiful last longer while Goblin magics made the strong stronger. Yet there was strength to the fairy and beauty to the goblin. Much like the two locked in battle in the night. Marianne found him an odd sort of beautiful. Powerful lines and sharp edges, like a mountain, majestic and solid. He found strength in her, strength in her flexibility. When he pushed she would flow away from him like a river or lash back at him like a wave. They tied in their fights more than either won.

Tonight as their fight came to a strange stillness she stood with her back against his chest, wood and chitin grinding against each other as they held still. His staff had her head pulled back against him, caught under her grinning chin, ready to crush her throat as they panted. Her arms were splayed oddly and the tip of her sword was aimed up and under the plates of chitin at his belly, ready to plunge up and into his chest. “Yield girl...” He purred at her and she tapped his middle with the tip of the sword he'd gifted her. “No... Draw.”

Her ear brushed the sharp line of his cheek as he tried to look to see what she was talking about until he felt the point press against a plate, not hard enough to puncture him but enough to give him the lay of the land. She smelled like smoke and the preserved honeysuckle that danced from her ears as he looked down at the ethereal creature pressed against his chest but never yielding to him. He wanted to run his teeth over the top of her ear as it brushed sensually against his face. He let the staff go slack and she slapped against his side with the flat of her blade.

He mused to himself that it was a shame lust did not die with his heart. Love once rattled in his chest like a moth through the night, haphazard and light on the breeze, but his heart had been dashed when _she_ had. _She_ held his heart and as _she_ lay broken and bleeding on the forest floor so had his heart.

His mother had said that for every heart made there is one made to hold it. Once you hold a heart only you can chose to let go of it and _she_ had held his heart so fiercely. Now he was as wretched inside as he was out. He had begged the witch fairy to bring his heart back, his love back, but she just looked on him with pity as she cast her spell. And nothing changed, she did not come back to him, his heart remained dead in his chest. Her lies had lit a fire of rage in his chest where his heart burned to ash eternally. 

Sometimes he would forget that this fairy was not the one who had lied to him and he pushed her too hard or too fast. Those were the times where he could not ignore the image of his love broken and bleeding at his feet, red blood seeping into brown leaves as her once sparkling eyes stared emptily up at him. He's never been sure who's blood it is that's on his hands but there is another body, one broken and shredded, perhaps not beyond recognition but it is too far outside of his mind for him to take note. His own blood drips off of him to join the mess at his feet. When this screams across his mind he forgets that she is not the fairy that failed to bring his love back.

He has bloodied her, his fairy sparing partner, wicked claws and rough knuckles have connected to her flesh and it's only when the blood drips off of her than he realized what he'd done. She said nothing of it because he has bled at her hand just as many times. His remembrance and rage are interrupted by a small deft fist to his face. He looked down at her when he was able to whip his head back towards her. Her lip had been split and blood dribbles down from his long nose as they shared a glare. They are both this way it seems sometimes. She loses herself to rage too and he wonders occasionally if she will kill him in her rage or if he will kill her.

The red haze fled from them as it always does and she reached out to his face. He pulled his face away but she hisses softly at him. “It's my fault this time. Let me tend it.” His hands stopped hers, gripping her wrists he could see her bleeding knuckles on her sword hand. He could not remember when she had done that so he could only guess it was while he was lost to rage. “It were both'a us.” He amended and she rolled her eyes at him, the angry look on her face calming. She twitched her fingers at him. Her long, elegant fingers drew him closer without touching him until she closed the last breath between them.

Fairy magic can mend or damage a soul, she can heal injuries and she did just that. Long fingers ran over his longer face. Every time he wanted to squirm away from her as she laid her fingers on him. This time they were along his nose, feeling the injury, her fingers spread across his nose and cheeks. This put him so very close to her face so she could draw the magic into his nose. He could see the next drop of blood readying it's self to roll down her chin. Were she a goblin he would lean in and lick it up, apologize with actions. No, that isn't right either because they are not mates. She is not his queen nor his lover. Not his heart, his heart has died. He pushes back at the thought of his dead love for fear of injuring her again.

A noise made the fairy before him unfocus her eyes. The blood chose that moment to run down her chin and his eyes followed it. It was a subtle but sudden shift. The image of his love was replaced like it had never held the gobliness. Instead of a goblin at his feet the Fairy was dead and broken before him. Her eyes were unfocused, dull amber, aimed unseeing at the sky and her lavender lips parted in a gasp. A drop of crimson slid cheekily along her chin, it trailed down towards the ruin of her throat. Her ironwood armor was cracked and sullied, his chitin covered knees fell to the forest floor and a keen ripped from him. Her sword, the one that he had gifted her lay along side her, the blade blackened with blood slowly drying on it, turning the bright bone under the thin glass dull.

Her voice ripped out to join his keen. She did not understand what was happening as he drug her body down with him and he fell to his knees. Suddenly she realized he was lost again. It was something that happened sometimes while they fought but it had never happened while she healed them from their sparing before. It's true reason was never fully explained to her but she knew he was lonely. Why else would he chance the king's legendarily fearsome ire to continue to teach a fairy to fight? They would both become injured in their sparing but usually they ended it with her healing them quietly. Their wounds were always superficial, cuts and scratches. Only every time she healed him she felt something push back against her, some magic buried in him that did not belong. 

_Fairy magic_.

Now his wail of a broken heart ripped at her own, barely healed, heart. Only through seeing how this stranger treated her, how he _meant_ what he said truthfully. Only because of that had she healed and to see him swallowed by pain tore at the new scars. He was not honey and acid promises that eat at you, just raw and ugly truths offered with a strange sort of tenderness. When they hurt they are as bland as a stone, not sitting in you and eating away your insides while you doubt both them and you. After the first time he became lost in their fight he explained that he had lost his love. Now she can only guess that he was reliving that loss. His claws scrabbled against her armor and she was glad for it because the hurt the noise he made was enough to put her in agony without claws to add to it.

His keen hurt worse than the broken skin of her knuckles or her split lip. Tears were forced out of her eyes as she winced at the painful keen uttered against her throat, her head forced back by his long face. Curled backwards in his arms, drug down to her knees she could not punch or hit him to bring back his senses. She was forced to slide her hands down and away from his face. One arm was not pinned against his chitin covered chest like the other had been so she slid it up the side of his face into his hair so she could try to pull his head back.

She had never touched the top of his head before, the leaves and jet hair were equally coarse. She would have liked to take a moment to enjoy it's rough texture but she felt something wet and hot against her throat, sharp points brushed over her pulse. She grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled, ripping his face away from her throat and allowing her to lift her head some. “Goblin! _It's not real!_ She's not _here_!” She cried into his face, her own voice broke as it tried to join his mortified keen. His blue eyes suddenly snapped to her face, wide and horrified, then a familiar, unfriendly sight presented it's self.

“Wut did ya du ta meh? Fairy _witch_! Haven't Ah suffered _enough_?” His claws ground against her armor yet harder and she knew she would need to replace some of the wooden petals. “Yes! You have! But it is not _my hand_ that made you suffer!” Reality seemed to crash around him. He curled around her and a sob ripped through him, she wrapped her arms around him and held him fiercely. Her Goblin friend was haunted and she didn't know why someone would haunt him like this. Fairies could heal... But they could _Hurt_. If a fairy did this to some unfortunate, lonely, heartbroken goblin, what other havoc had her people wrecked on his?

This was the worst, the worst he had ever lost himself. It was hours until he had finished his keening and crying. When he rose she was none the wiser as to what had caused him to fall to his knees. Perhaps she had threatened the other fairy's magic and it had lashed against his mind, drawing horrible things in the back of his eyes. She would never know unless he told her but he was in no state to explain himself to her. She did not ask him to explain, knowing that it was too cruel to ask him to speak of.

This had only happened a handful of times but it wasn't always around her. He had told her after a different one that his mother could break him from the horror of his mind. That made her heart ache for his mother. Just to think of a mother seeing her child so lost to his own mind... It drew her thoughts to her own mother who had tried, oh she had _tried_ to help. She'd tried to help her daughter with her faithless husband king. To help with the man who wanted nothing more than the crown and everything with no regard for his queen or people.

Her goblin friend had episodes about his lost love, and so did the young, love scorned queen. She hadn't told him her name, or who she was, he hadn't shared the same information with her so she felt no guilt for her omission. But she had told him of her faithless husband. Told him how the traitorous bastard had killed her mother when the woman confronted him. His hands soaked in her mother's blood on their wedding night. The night they were to finally share everything he took her world from her. She told him of how he attacked her and she had no ability to fight him, only flee. How she appreciated the lessons... Even if occasionally her mind put her mother's murderer before her in the heat of her battle.

His voice was always enough to stop her, even if he had his share of damage she'd done him in her blinded haze. She wept every time she hurt him senselessly, begged him to let her heal him. The first time he had been reticent. When she reached for him that first time he gripped her throat. He seemed to expect her to draw back but she just swallowed beneath his palm. She had told him if that would make him feel safe... she would let him. She held no love of liars, if she stooped so low she hoped someone would not let her raise back up. He let her heal him.

When neither of them became lost like he had tonight, they would laugh. She would heal their wounds and he would correct her, wrapping his long arms around her to raise her hands or to correct her hips. She fought the flush every time, the warmth in her face at being corrected. At first it was embarrassment but now when he brushed his knuckles against her wrist or helped her to shift her weight the heat drained into her chest, wrapping her soul in his friendship. She relished those moments long after they'd ended. They allowed her to greet the Imp with a smile and relax in the burrow when he thought others might be around. When she slept, her dreams were sweet with friendship and family gathered around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >.> One more chapter... Lemme know what you thought of this one...


	3. Chapter 3

The forest was quiet as the sun climbed into the sky, sending light across the forest floor in tiny patches. The day's animals would rustle and mutter while the night's animals snored. Marianne could not wait until the sun faded so that she could escape the burrow and go to the clearing where she would greet her friend. She had to sleep the daylight away to keep from hurting herself against the inside of the burrow. Her form was small enough to be comfortable but not to be active. 

When she couldn't sleep she would decorate herself. Her tiny form glowed in the forest, her warm coral color too bright so if she thought she would be flying she would decorate herself with green and purple paints. She painted a band of green around her throat, drew vines to grow along her arms and thighs. She put purple along her center, decorating her belly and then putting a bold, dark purple star over her love scarred heart. It was a way to pass the time and if the Imp wondered why she did such things he did not ask.

Today she had drawn a rather impressive compliment of decorations on herself and felt the need to show her goblin friend. She paced impatiently in the clearing, spinning to face him when he shifted in the woods. It had always felt too dangerous to show this goblin her tiny self. He was fierce, strong. If he so wanted he could cage her with his hands and never touch her with his long fingers. As he crept out of the shadows she smiled at him, truly she beamed at him. Then she flit towards him, tiny enough to sleep in his palm should he offer it to her. Her voice was a delicate chime as she was now, his stoic, gray face lighting as he roamed his eyes over her. 

“Y'painted yerself...” He spoke it as a question and her laughter sang like silver bells. He held a palm to her and she landed on the expanse of his hand. She danced a small circle for him, holding her large colorful wings up. A long black claw tipped finger held out towards her and she pressed her arm into his claw tip. His eyes fluttered with pleasure at the intricate markings on her skin. His claw tip pressed gently against her chest where the purple decorated her. “Yer still so scarred?” He questioned, some pain in his voice as she shifted between her feet. She held his claw tip and fluttered slightly. She shrugged and nodded slanting her vivid amber eyes up at him. His fingertips pressed gently against her, running from the fluff of wild purple hair at her head and down her back, her wings having folded at the intrusion. 

Suddenly the clearing was filled with noise and she flew up in front of him, looking to see what had disturbed the quiet. It was instinct that kept her small, kept her able to fly away and flee if need was. When she saw the intrusion she flew back to the Goblin who had been so kind to her. From the dark and into the dim moonlight came a golden creature. Everything about him reflected the light as she pressed silently into the Goblin's cloak, his long hand came to cover her protectively. 

“You seem to have my _wife_.”

The Goblin growled at the fairy male, the moon casting his charming grin in horrible contrast. His hair was still perfectly swept about his head, his polished armor decorated in excessive etching that had never seen a ding or dent. His wings were as duplicitous as he was, false eyes and false modesty. “No.” The single word made the false love's wings flutter as the goblin gently pressed her to his cloak over his chest. “Yer outa yer place _Fairy_. Nae a thin in tha forest fer _you_. Leave naow er Ah'll water the vines wit yer blood.”

“Oh, I'll leave... when I have my _wife_ and then you'll be right. There will be nothing of _worth_ in the forest.” She pushed her Goblin friend's hand away and in a flash of rage and wings she stood before her false love, brandishing the sword the Goblin had given her. His golden grin twisted in a cold mockery of joy. “My sweet Buttercup... _My Marianne_... Put that away before you hurt your pretty face more than you have.” Rage bubbled in her, every time she'd imagined the false fool before her in place of her friend she'd wept. Now she grinned her own snarling grin at him. “No _pig_. You're a fool to have come here looking for me...”

His blinding white teeth flashed in the dark, truly dark mirth crossed his face. “Oh I didn't come here looking for you wife. Only got lucky to find you. Now if you'll kindly take your rightful place _by my side_ and put down that _silly excuse_ for a blade...” Perhaps she didn't realize he was goading her. Rage took her and she flew forward at him, her feet barely touching the forest floor. There was a blinding flash of pink that exploded into her face and she sputtered trying to remove it as she tried to stumble back and away from the attack. But when she cleared her eyes he was there, looming over her, knocking her blade from her hand. “There we are my queen. Time to come home, quietly... right after I get rid of this disgusting creature.”

The Goblin had stayed back, his fairy had slipped through his fingers as he tried to stop her only too late. A cloud of pink startled him back, enveloping her. When the cloud of love dust settled the fierce fairy he had come to know went slack. Her gold eyes faded, a soft pink glimmer would glisten from the corners of her eyes. Her hand went slack and the sword she had treasured with her whole heart so openly fell to the ground carelessly. She smiled emptily at the male she’d called a pig. 

The Goblin had enough, he would not stand idly by. With a snarl at the fool before him he spun his staff. He advanced on the fool then suddenly he was beset by three more fairies. The goblin was able to fight back the other three but behind them the false lover scooped her sword up and drew her away. A strange sort of desperation crawled up his throat, one he was shocked he could feel after the loss of his love. A roar of rage and frustration echoed across the forest, answering bellows rattling out between the trees. The fairy, his fairy, followed the fool like a soul bewitched.

Soon the chase was joined in earnest, his goblins seeping out of the woods, pushing the fairies towards the border more quickly. He heard her name barked several more times, Marianne. The others called her “my queen” and the fool “my king” which fed the seed of rage in his chest while he pushed farther and faster. The fairies did not dare to change and fly, already out numbered. It would be a fools errand to make themselves smaller in unfamiliar territory. The five fairies came to an abrupt halt, circled around the female. The gilt one looked too nervous, pressing the sword back into her hand. “Defend me my love!” He demanded and she nodded emptily, taking the sword back from him and turning, ready.

From behind the woman the fool hissed angrily at the goblins. Their leader stepping up to cross his staff with her sword. “Fairy...” He called to her softly, tried to reach her as he had when she was lost to her rage but she attacked him with mindless ferocity. She did not speak, did not seem to think. He fought her back but did not try to hurt her. She offered him no such kindness, while he aimed for her armor she aimed to injure, to draw blood. He hissed at the blade finding flesh again. He knocked her aside, into his goblins. They grappled her as she struggled with wordless rage.

The broad female named Stuff hung on one of the fairy's arms, plucking the sword from her hand and throwing it to the small, fish lipped male who's eyes bugged impossibly larger at the weapon flying through the air at him. The fairies were trapped, two of the guards bleeding held below some of the others, the last remaining guard surrounded by the two behemoths Brutus and Briar. He stood towering over his friends husband, a worm of a male who had hurt her deeply and now had the utter gall to use a _love potion_ on her in _his_ presence.

“How!? How do you have an _army_ at your back!?” Foolish rage echoed around them as the female, Marianne, _Queen_ Marianne of the fairy kingdom, struggled to rejoin the fight with her friend in defense of this slime. In the shadows of the trees the edges of his armor caught the moon's light, outlining him in silver. He reached up and unlatched his cape, letting it fall around his feet.

The goblins who were not occupied all dipped their heads to him as wings spread behind him, catching the moon like dew covered spiderwebs. The moonlight caught on the king of the dark forest's wings with vindictive merriment. “Ah am The _**Bog King**_! An _ye_ will pay fer yer crimes.” The fairy who had so much gold moved sluggishly under the weight of his prideful armor. His perfect pale face flushed with rage and fear. His smug smile was replaced with a snarl making his beautiful face unseemly. The earth colored form of the king moved with unearthly grace. His lithe form dipped and shifted around the flash and flail of his fairy opponent. His broad shoulders did not sink at the foul insults heaped on them. “What do you hope ta _gain_? What could a _grotesque_ thing like you want a beauty like her for? She'll never _desire_ you!” 

The King knocked the fool to his knees, raising his staff to strike down on the empty head that winced up at him. The fool who had enslaved his friend, who besmirched a king by giving him goals not his own. The dead hearted king swung then faltered when her voice rang out. “NO!” His staff planted by the gilt knee that was dirtied in the leaves. He turned to see her, her eyes stuck on the fool, tears welling up, glittering with pink magic in the night. As he looked at her, his heart shivered like dead leaves. The scrape of a blade against armor was what took his attention back from her. 

His own blood darkened the leaves at his feet as the gilt fool grinned up at him then changed. He was a little ball of green and moth wings that flew up and away from the goblin forces... Up through the trees into the open sky. The green mote disappeared as an owl swooped by, ripping a new sobbing scream out of the fairy woman, out of Marianne. 

He turned back to her and watched as the glittering tears rolled down her face, the pink spreading across her eyes as they filled with tears, only to empty and refill as the tear fell and was replaced with the next. His goblins swarmed him with concern but the king, leaking blood down his thigh from where the dagger had found an inexpert seat in his flesh moved to the young queen. The other three fairies moaned at the loss of the fool, the jester of a king lost to the night.

“No! She's our Queen! Don't... Don't hurt her!” The last one cried from behind the wall of two goblins, his arm stretched out towards the goblin king. Blue eyes burned darkly across at the desperate guard, the other two moaned but tried desperately to crawl out from under their captors to offer their aid. A mournful keen ripped out of her and the other three whimpered at the effort to not join such a heartfelt, wretched sound. The goblin king crouched to lift her face to his, pointing her glittering eyes at himself. “Dead... He's dead... Noooo.” She keened desperately, all of her fight gone. A long gray hand curled around her cheek, dangerously clawed thumb brushing the tainted tears from her skin. 

Slowly she reached out to him, some part of her still seemed to know him as a friend now that there was nothing to defend from him. He curled his long arm around her middle and lifted her against his chest. He closed his eyes and leaned into her head as she buried it against the rough surface of his armor. He clutched her head to his but he felt weakened by his injury and by her renewed heartbreak. It had always torn at the king's blackened heart, the sound of her song, made him weak and wanting.

He sunk to his knees which put her back on her feet, his goblins keeping the fairies at bay as they tried to surge forward to end his familiar embrace. She stumbled at being set on her own feet. She looked down him to see the dark smear across his body, the blackened puddle starting to form below them. Her lids fluttered closed as she put her hands on either side of his face. Her reactions to him seemed to be more her body remembering than her mind. One hand over his slightly pointed ear and the other on his cheek, her thumb resting across his lips, she healed him.

The young queen woke from a daze to that resistance to her magic. To that fairy curse pressing back against her as she tried to help him. It had been a nightmare for her, back in her faithless husband's arms then keening just as she had before but this time he was dead. Her devotion had been the same, that blind, helpless state that love had put her in, a state love of someone _false_ had put her in. As much as she'd known it was false, as much as she wanted to pull rage around herself like her goblin's cloak, she couldn't. What he had thrown at her stripped her bare, cold magic still wrapped around her, choking her as she struggled against it. Her goblin was under her hands and she pushed against the cold, trying to find his warmth. The ice cold magic was what pushed back at her, it was the same as what wrapped her now. She plunged through it like breaking through a film of ice.

She could feel the cold truth that the magic held at bay. It was begging pain and meaningless warnings. It was want to stop hurting from a wound that would not stop bleeding and she clutched to the frigid heat of that anger and she soothed it. He deserved to be soothed. She wanted him soothed and whole. She felt heat run through her, the heat of her own magic melting the cold magic that had her wrapped. She opened her eyes and looked down at his eyes. His pain matched hers, it swept around her like his cloak, shoving away the cloying desperation she had felt under that chilled magic. The warmth of him, heart and soul, was wound around her and she smiled down at him. 

He was healed... and the cold crashed back over her, not willing to let her go. It crawled through her with vicious claws of hate filled sugar. It ripped into her mind and screamed at her for ignoring the plight of her love, of the man that had said he loved her and was now dead. Cold chains of longing drug her heart towards a icey pit of mourning and heartbreak. Marianne choked as the pink flashed across her eyes again. The fairy queen stumbled and struggled to breathe as she lost her legs.

“No... NO!” Bog bellowed out as she clutched her throat, her fingers scrabbled at the tender skin. He had felt her break the magic that the fairy witch had placed on him. Knew the truth of what had happened that he had wanted to shield himself from knowing. That the goblin he loved hadn't loved him... It hadn't been a jealous lover or even his hand that had ended her... but _her own_. The goblin she _did_ love did not return from a hunt and as he laid the remains of the other female down for her to mourn she went mad with grief. She tore out her own throat to join her lover, right there before him and he hadn't been able to stop her.

Now the fairy who he had grown so close to was clawing at her throat, unable to breathe properly. It hurt him to see her so afflicted. He was able to grab her wrists and pull them away from her skin. But seeing the desolate look in her eyes when she pulled her head back broke his already shattered heart. Love scorned and desperate he let rip the mournful song he'd never let himself sing over the goblin he thought he'd loved. Older, wiser, now he realized that his once love was only a flicker of flame verses the wildfire of feeling he had for this dieing fairy. And she _was_ dieing, he would be able to do nothing about it, again, but he could prepare himself for it this time. He scooped her to his chest and lifted her slight body as she moved so weakly. 

He carried her back to their clearing, his goblins marched after him as he sang the haunted, wordless tune for her. She cried and sang with him calling out her pain. He settled them in the clearing, clutching her now limp body to his chest. A terrible calm came across her as she sung the bittersweet notes. He crooned softly along with her, their voices twining through the night as she stared, sightless, up at the moon. His goblins melted into the darkness while still keeping a silent vigil over their king.

His song broke before hers, a sob wracking him and he curled over her, pressing his head to the remaining plates of her armor. He cradled her, holding her up to him, her arms and wings hanging limply from her shoulders. “Fairy... Marianne... Yer stronger'n tha' foul magic... Fight it... Please Fight it...” He whispered it to her chest, feeling her belabored heartbeat under her ribs and clothes. He nearly dropped her when long slender fingers curled into his hair. “You know my name?” She asked, her voice lacked any of her usual power. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Marianne?” She let out a tiny little huff that might have been laughter. 

“Tell me your name before I slip away friend...” He felt his throat close and tears well in his eyes as he looked at her. She looked like she was just holding on by a thread, ready to slip away. “Ah... Ah'm The Bog King... Ah tha dark forest...” Her amber eyes closed and she sighed gently. “Bog... Heh... I feared you while I befriended you... Did you kill her? The goblin girl?” He swallowed as he watched her in his arms. “Nae, she took'er own life. Ah dinnea 'ave time ta stop 'er.”

She nodded, eyes still closed. “Marianne... Dun't make meh lose another luv...” He whispered to her, begged her. Her eyes eased open and she took another deeper breath. “I had hoped...” She started then looked at him, her eyes focusing in on his tears. “You won't follow me will you?” She asked, her concern stronger than anything had been since the magic had been thrown at her. Blue eyes slid away from hers, unable to promise any thing. “Bog... Don't follow me...” He looked back up at her. “Dun't go.” She struggled to sit up in his arms but her body was too weak.

“Your people need you...” She argued, some strength returning to her voice. “Ah need _you_.” He retorted, her hands were back under her control, he didn't dare hope... She gripped his pointed ear and tugged on the short thing. “Promise you'll stay...” She demanded and he gave a weak smile back at her. “Promise y'll nae go...” She let out a flustered noise, a sharp huff of air as she didn't even seem to notice she was sitting on her own. 

“I can't... Bog... I'm love sick...” He nodded, closing his eyes against the pain of the image of her body going cold. “An Ah'll be love sick soon...” She gripped the chitin at the side of his throat, the flaring plate that protected his long neck. She jerked herself up into his face. “No! You can't!” She hissed it in his face and he ran his hands along her back as she flared her wings, now growling at him. “Ah kin... an' Ah will...” Holding back his joy at seeing her revive was difficult but he didn't want to let her know that she was growing stronger until he was sure she wouldn't pass. “Damn you! Bog! Stop this!” He had to look up to see her face now as she lifted her head above his. “Why should Ah?”

“Because I love you!” His smile broke and there were muffled cheers. Her eyes went unfocused, staring through his face and he felt panic rise immediately back up in him. “By the stars... I _love_ you...” When her eyes focused again a pair of pink tears rolled out of her eyes, leaving her golden eyes clear. He ran a hand up her back to touch the back of her head and she shuddered. Her armor was broken, he was crumpled on the forest floor, wings splayed out behind him, and she was kneeling over top of him. Yet as he gently tugged her, her lips crashed over his and she held onto him with a furious passion.

The woods erupted with joyful bellows and howls. The healed king lifted the freed queen, their wings splayed in jubilation as the moon slid slowly out of view. Three injured fairies looked on their queen, alive and happy, and then among each other. “Majesty?” The least injured one asked gently and she landed lightly on her feet, turning to the three. “You three... You were my husband's favored guards...” They each dipped as low as they could, offering her their submission. “The King's madness was beyond our knowledge. For give us, let us escort you back to the fields...” She shook her head, eyes cold. “Return to the fields. Tell them of my former husband's deceit, and news of my imminent return.”

One balked, another nodded and the other boggled. “May I ask the terms of your return my queen?” The one who nodded asked. She looked around the clearing, to each goblin, including the king at her back. “Yes. You may.” She said with an imperious, aloof tone. “You will need to have a celebration prepared. I will return...” Bog smiled warmly at her, keeping close enough that she could feel his heat against her arm.

“For my wedding to the Goblin King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp... I was gonna try to do the wedding but... yea. 
> 
> ANYWAY! Lemme know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Gorammit I wish I could actually sketch in that really neat style that inspired this, cus wow I'd love to draw what I imagine for Bog's look in this...


End file.
